


Tuning up

by Splinter



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Car Sex, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Furiosa Receives Oral Sex, Furiosa is the most eaten out character in fandom history, Innuendo, Post-Movie(s), Public Sex, Vaginal Sex, inappropriate vehicular activity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-12-03 12:48:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11532561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Splinter/pseuds/Splinter
Summary: What she’s saying is matter of fact, basic maintenance, but the way she says it isn’t. Her voice is low and caressing, her gaze tracking over his face, moving from his eyes to his mouth and back. Max swallows, sees her follow the movement in his throat.Car sex and innuendo.





	Tuning up

They’re working side by side – tinkering, really. She’s sitting on the bonnet of the new rig, checking the cooling system. Lower down, Max has the hood of the interceptor open, looking over his spark plugs. It’s late enough that he doesn’t have an admiring audience for his V8. The lamps are still burning for them, but most of the machine shop is dark. There are no urgent jobs on hand, nothing to justify a night crew. The garage is quiet.

Max is almost ready to finish up; has already finished, in fact, but when he last glanced over, Furiosa had still been deeply absorbed in her radiator. He loves her look of concentration. And he can always find something else to check in the interceptor.

There’s a creak of leather above him, Furiosa shifting position. Max straightens up, wiping his hands on a rag, taking the chance to stretch his back. So he has a good view when she steps from the nose of the rig to the roof of the interceptor, landing lightly in spite of the drop. She looks down at him, making sure he’s watching.

A bit of Max is outraged: that’s his car she’s walking all over. But he’s also amused, admiring how easily she does it. He lowers the bonnet, stands with his hands on it, watching her. She drops to sit on the roof. It might be his car, but she’s the one looking territorial about it, her legs braced wide as she settles.

“I’m gonna need a socket wrench.”

“Mmm?” He’s not sure what she’s getting at, though he knows there’s something. She nods, eyes still on him, challenging. He can feel his body reacting, blood speeding up in response to her green eyes and her energy and that bright, possessive body language.

“Want to change the brake pads.” Her eyes flick back to the rig, then settle on him again. “Best to do it properly, when we’ve time in the machine shop. Before it’s an emergency.”

What she’s saying is matter of fact, basic maintenance, but the way she says it isn’t. Her voice is low and caressing, her gaze tracking over his face, moving from his eyes to his mouth and back. Max swallows, sees her follow the movement in his throat.

“Grinding,” she adds, with a hint of a smile when he startles. “Can feel it, when we go slow.” Max hadn’t known that a brake test could sound so filthy. The way her smile widens sends a pulse of arousal straight to his cock.

He should look around the garage, check who might be watching, but that would mean looking away from her. She’s leaning back on her flesh hand, her other shoulder low and relaxed, exposing the long line of her neck. He wants to lick her there, to bite.

Furiosa settles herself more firmly, her feet planted, easing her bum against the metal of the roof.

“You could help me with that?”

Almost without thinking, Max finds himself climbing right up onto the bonnet. She leans forward, her face inches from his.

“Good to do it now,” she says, still in that silky voice. “Now it’s quiet.” He can feel her breath on his cheek.

Max takes hold of her face and kisses her. She makes a greedy little sound, her mouth opening for his tongue.

By the time he breaks away, they’re both panting. Max realises just how grubby his hands are: he’d wiped them, but he’s still left smudges on her cheeks, a thumb mark on her jaw. She’s grinning, triumphant. He gets onto his knees on the hood, ignoring the squeak of his leg brace, and pulls her into his lap.

She slides down as if this is what she planned all along, settling astride him. His hand is cradling her head as he kisses her again, his other arm tight around her. He can’t help growling at the way she presses into him, the way her thighs ease wider. She’s careful to keep her weight on her own knees – she knows kneeling isn’t great for his bad leg, even if he’s letting himself forget that – as she pushes her hips against him in a slow, deliberate grind. Max is still kissing her, her throat and her mouth and along her collarbone. She rocks down against him, hips working until he moans at the pressure and the friction.

Gripping her tighter, he moves to lay her down, shuffling on the bonnet as he tips her back. It’s so good to feel her full weight, her solidity. He enjoys the sense of his own strength when he moves her, loves that she likes it too, the little sigh she gives as she stretches out for him. He’s still sliding back, sprawled over her on the sloping nose of the car, reaching to get at her.

His hands are on her fastenings before he remembers that they’re dirty. He’s already left a smudge on her shirt, another on the bare skin of her belly. He ducks his head to kiss around the mark, his mouth grazing over her scars and silvered stretch marks and soft, soft skin.

Once he’s got her trousers open, he shoves them right down to her ankles, scrabbling at the leather. He hasn’t the patience to undo her boots, but he wants her bare. He kisses her knee on his way back up to her crotch, her inner thigh.

There’s not that much space, between the slope of the hood and the bulk of the blower. He’s half sliding off the car himself, getting one foot back on the floor to brace himself. He can’t use his fingers and she can’t open her legs as wide as he’d like, so he’s nosing his way between her thighs, hungry and blunt. He’d thought he was already turned on, but he groans at the wash of pheromones and want that hits him when he finally gets his face between her legs.

He’s gripping her thigh, encouraging her to wrap it over his shoulder, pushing at the tangled leather of her trousers. He’s pretty sure he’s leaving more greasy marks on her leg, but he doesn’t care, swiping his tongue between the lips of her pussy, getting his mouth on her. She makes a delicious noise when he starts sucking her clit, high and loud, her hand in his hair and her hips twitching up to meet him. He keeps going, feeling her grind and shudder under him, around him. He growls again when she shakes apart, wet and trembling under his mouth.

At last he lifts his head, and stares.

Furiosa is sprawled out on his car, her face flushed and her body easy. She’s gone from command to a look of luscious satisfaction, completely unravelled. Unguarded as she is, she could not be more in possession of his car, more in possession of him. It’s giddying to think that he’s done this, that they can have this.

Looking at her, at her pink cheeks and her pleasure, he feels a rush of something that is almost panic and very definitely lust. It’s like a wave breaking over him, hunger and protectiveness and heat. He can feel his blood thumping as he climbs up onto her, his cock hard and demanding. His mouth is full of the taste of her, and he’s still ravenous.

He ends up sprawled on top of her, her bare thighs open around him, leaning on his elbows as he kisses her. He can feel her metal arm heavy around his waist, her flesh hand back in his hair. She must be able to taste herself on his tongue, he thinks, and deliberately kisses her deeper. Furiosa reaches down to tug at his pants, her hips pressing up against him. Max moans.

Her fingers work quickly, getting his fastenings open and pushing his leathers down. She’s careful not to touch his cock: her hand must be oily, too. He’s panting and urgent but trying to be careful as he lines up their hips. She just opens her legs wider, one knee pressed against the blower and her other leg hooked around him, pushing up until he slides in.

At first, he tries for a shallower angle, a grind that will rub against her clit. Then Furiosa bucks under him, clamping her legs and arms around him, rocking up to meet his thrust. The interceptor’s bonnet is hard against his knee, under his elbows, and she is all around him, tight and wet and avid. Max gasps and comes, her lips on his cheek as he spills into her.

He lies flopped over her for a moment, feeling her fingers in his hair and her mouth kissing and nibbling his face. When he pulls out, he’s aware of come and slick dripping off them both, onto his car. Furiosa sighs and stretches.

“You know, I do need to change the brake pads,” she says, showing no urge to move. Max reaches up to cup her face. He tries to rub the smear of grease from her cheek, but the swipe of his thumb just moves the mark over. He kisses her again.

“Tomorrow,” he says. “Got – mmm. Other things I want to do now.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm at [lurkinghistoric](http://lurkinghistoric.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr.


End file.
